So, remember that movie, Bound, the one where Gina Gershon and Jennifer Tilly are two extremely good looking lesbians? I know you remember it. You must. Nobody ever made house painting look so good until Gina's Corky busted out the rollers. They even had Susie Sexpert consult on the sex scenes... There's a scene in that movie that I kept thinking about while in Pescadero. No, I don't mean the sexy one, I mean the scene when Christopher Meloni and Joey Pants are torturing a guy in the bathroom and Jennifer Tilly wants to leave. Joey croons to her sympathetically, "Baby, that's what I love about you. You're so fuckin sensitive." Then he kisses her on the shoulder. Yes, his response was completely inappropriate, but he was showing his appreciation of her in his own special way.

Well, Pescadero is so fuckin picturesque. I know. I know. I shouldn't say it that way, but I can't help it. It's beautiful. Gorgeous. The rolling hills, the verdant grass, the adorable goats, all of it is absolutely fuckin picturesque. Yes it's a bit gauche, but a city rat like myself must express her appreciation in whatever manner she can.

Our weekend away was basically a series of naps interrupted by moments of socialization. Or at least I took as many naps as possible, Honey exercised his right to vegetate on the sofa. That Saturday we rose for breakfast, then took a nap. We visited Harley Dairy Goat farm, then took a nap. We had wine and cheese in the dining room of the B&B, then took a nap. Lastly, we had dinner at the Half Moon Bay Brewery and then... stayed up!

One of the funny things about a B&B is that you often must break your fast at a communal table with your fellow lodgers. This encourages conversation, tho I must admit that I was a bit too sluggish to contribute a great deal. I did, however, learn that another couple had tickets to a guided tour and a catered luncheon at Harley farm. I wondered aloud if they served goat at these luncheons and the female member of the couple responded, "That would be too inhumane."

I thought it best not to respond.

The dairy was a lovely walk from the B&B. We had only to follow the main road for a little less than a mile and arrived quite quickly. The little girl and her goat point the way for you. It is a working dairy so it is full of barnyard smells, gravel, and mud. The baby goats are quite lovable and you can hold them if you ask the owners, or are part of an organized tour. They have a lovely garden where they cultivate the flowers they use to decorate their chevre. I was rather disappointed to note walk-on visitors are not permitted in, but quickly forgot said disappointment when I found the cheese room. The cheese room is located in an old barn with floorboards so worn they are actually wavy. The exterior is not particularly picturesque, and while inside I was too absorbed in tasting, so there are no pictures of it to show you. Their cheese is fantastic! Soft, creamy, smooth, flavorful mounds of chevre are lovingly decorated with edible flowers and herbs. Harley Farms as yet does not offer any aged cheeses, but their fresh cheeses are silky spreadable joy. Aside from their herb, fruit, and flower bedecked cheeses they also have three flavors of fromage blanc, and a feta. All of it was delicious. I must confess, my favorite was the chevre in olive oil, because I could then top it with their raspberry preserve. O My Gawd, Heavenly. I think I made the same circuit 5 times dodging around other customers and their children. I had found a good thing and I was going to make the most of it! To our great good luck they had a tray of goat milk fudge that was available and Honey bought a square of it. It existed only because the friendly lady at the counter had forgotten to set it out for sale the previous day. It was gone within the next two hours. Other edible offerings were raspberry syrup, honey, and olive oil so virginal it had sediment.

Inside the cheese room there was a sign directing customers to the barn "next door" for the farm's goat milk skin care line and other products. I stepped outside to look for the barn "next door" and could only find one at what seemed like a considerable distance, say a city block, or two away. Ha! Silly city girl! In the country "next door" means "the next habitation you encounter despite the linear distance." Above is my attempt at an artful picture of the neighboring barn. They had more little goats there which were transitioning to eating hay. The was no goaty smell at this location so Honey and I sat at a picnic table and shared some of the fudge. Very interesting. The flavor was very chocolatey on the front, like common fudge, and then it subsided into that distinctive flavor of goat's milk at the finish. It was a strange but pleasant sensation. The day was warm so the fudge was soft and tacky. We had fun licking it off our fingers.

I never did work up the courage to ask if they sold goat meat, preferring instead to enjoy the sun and the scenery. However, the B&B guests who attended the luncheon reported that they had been served a course of "lamb." They did not, however, report any feeling of inhumanity while consuming it.